


Rhythm of the Rain

by Tarlan



Category: Waterworld (1995)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:43:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mariner is back at sea, with his one true love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rhythm of the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **MMoM** 2012 - Day 15

The rain drumming on the deck of the boat reverberated around the tiny interior, keeping him awake as he took cover from the worst of the storm. After spending all of his life at the mercy of the sea, he knew the squall would pass quickly, and then the clouds would disappear, leaving behind a breathtaking view of the night sky. Mostly, he preferred to sleep on deck beneath that canopy of stars, knowing some of the constellations from the pictures in the remnants of old National Geographic magazines that he'd had stored in his old catamaran.

Everything was gone now, sunk with his boat, but he knew he could replace some of what he had lost the next time he dived deep beneath the ocean waves to the world of decaying cities hidden far below. He already had jars of fresh dirt on-board from the island that he could trade for most of what he needed, but a few trinkets from below always sweetened any deal.

The small boat rocked precariously as larger waves picked her up and he felt a small amount of concern. He couldn't drown in the sea. Not unless someone or something hampered his gills, but he still needed fresh water to survive. Without a deck beneath his feet, he could not set up the basic equipment to collect water, and drinking sea water would turn him as insane as that drifter they had come across weeks ago; the one he had been forced to kill.

The rain still drummed over his head but at least he was dry and warm in the belly of the boat, lying on a soft mattress stuffed with grass and bird feathers from the small island. Helen had made it for him when he said he could not stay on dry land, unable to cope with the sharp sounds, intense smells and vibrant colors, or with the way the land remained so rigid beneath his feet rather than in constant motion like the sea.

Land sickness, they had called it, but while the others quickly adapted and had got their ' _land-legs_ ', he had felt worse with each passing day. But then, they were humans whereas he was a mutant, a genetic freak in their eyes. A merman.

The rain began to slow and the movement of the boat smoothed; he started to relax into the gentle rocking and the soft rhythm of the rain. Soon he would open the hatch and let the starlight flood into his small home, but for now he drifted in darkness, remembering Helen. He drew off the half-gloves that hid the webbing between his fingers, and slipped his hand beneath the fastenings of his pants. His fingers curled around his hard cock, and he smiled wryly for it that respect he was fully human--fully male. It took only a few strokes to bring himself close to the edge but he backed off, changing his rhythm to match the rocking of the sea; letting it guide the ebb and flow of his cock as it slid between his webbed fingers while adding just the right amount of pressure.

He remembered Helen and her welcoming body. Remembered sliding into her wet heat, and feeling her legs clamp around him as she kissed him almost desperately, but the memory was overshadowed by his one true love--the sea.

His climax broke over him in a wave of pleasure, his semen caught in his webbed palm and brought up to his lips so he could savor the unique taste of the salty, bitter fluid, lapping up every last drop.

By now the rain had eased off to just a light patter, and he reached across to a small pulley system that he'd created during the first part of this new voyage, opening the hatch above his head. As he had predicted, the squall had passed, taking the clouds with it and bathing him in starlight.

Sated and relaxed, he fell back onto the soft bedding and basked in the afterglow as the sea slowly rocked him to sleep.

END


End file.
